Farm Life
by Tremaile
Summary: Rand and Asmodean visit Taim and the students at "the farm". (Follows the AU in which Asmodean didn't die, as began in Near Death Experience.)


**A/N:** The purpose of this fic was mainly just for me to get the hang of the dynamics between Rand, Taim and Asmodean in this verse. Nothing really happens but it was amusing to write.

* * *

The farm hardly looked like a place where one would expect to find one of the most notorious men of the generation, Asmodean mused not for the first time as he followed al'Thor from the gateway towards the group of men gathered outside the modest farmhouse. There were six of them at present; Mazrim Taim and five students. Five men who could learn to channel, men who were there for precisely that purpose. That in and of itself was a disturbing thought — had these fools forgotten what it was that broke the world in the first place? More disturbing in many ways, however, was the teacher.

Taim had acquired a new coat since Asmodean had last seen him, the day he had arrived in Caemlyn. He had been travel-worn and exhausted, then, though still arrogant as a king. Now that he'd had a few days to recover, and a fresh change of clothes… he put most kings of this Age to shame.

A king ruling over a dusty farmyard with five peasants and a half score chickens. The thought made Asmodean smirk.

Of course, as luck would have it, that was the moment Taim noticed the newcomers. His expression turned cold as his eyes took in the smirk. With a few curt words to the students, he strode to meet the visitors. "My Lord Dragon," he greeted al'Thor with a small bow. "Master Natael." The nod towards Asmodean was less than cursory, barely in the realm of politeness. Asmodean gave a wry nod in return, which went so obviously ignored that Taim might as well have been staring at him.

_Young men and their attempts at being subtle. How… entertaining._

"How are the students getting on?" al'Thor asked.

"Two have managed to grasp _saidin_," Taim replied. "One has even managed to do something with it. That would be Flinn over there." He nodded towards the oldest of the five students.

Al'Thor looked at the old man, who seemed to be instructing one of the others, a skinny youth with ears and nose that seemed too big for his head. "That's…"

"That's about as fast as can be expected and more," Taim interjected. "Flinn is a soldier; he has some discipline, a backbone, something I can work with. The rest of them… a farmer and three children." He shrugged. "It is going to take a while before they'll be good for anything."

Al'Thor frowned but said nothing. They arrived at the door of the farmhouse, and Taim gestured at al'Thor to precede him — and cut in before Asmodean could follow. Asmodean shook his head in amusement and followed after Taim.

The interior of the house was not exactly cooler but at least here they were out of the sun. Taim poured a cup of chilled wine — in this weather? Asmodean tried to see if the pitcher had a specific cooling weave on it or a simple Keeping to make once-cooled contents remain cool — and offered it to al'Thor, then poured another one for himself, pointedly ignoring Asmodean. Without missing a beat, Asmodean got a cup for himself. Al'Thor looked like he wanted to make a comment, then clearly thought better of it and merely took a seat by the window. Taim made no move towards the second chair, so Asmodean sat as well.

The wine was not half bad, he had to admit. Either Taim had a good taste, or just luck.

"Have you thought of what I said?" Taim asked after a while. "About recruiting?"

Al'Thor shook his head. "Too risky," he said firmly. "People will start coming in greater numbers once the word spreads." He glanced out of the window at the five students; Asmodean noted that Taim never let them out of his sight for long even though he appeared at ease with leaving them without closer supervision for the duration of the Lord Dragon's visit. Al'Thor continued, "Perhaps it's for the better that you have some time to work on these five before students start coming in in masses. They'll be able to help you teach the newer ones."

Something that might have been a grimace twitched the corners of Taim's mouth. "As you say."

"If you have a complaint, Taim, voice it," al'Thor said irritably, setting the empty wine cup on the table. "I have no need for men who will bow and scrape and then mutter behind my back. Light knows I have enough of those."

Indignation flashed in the black eyes. "I am _not_—" Taim began, then cut off, visibly reining in his temper. Asmodean had to agree, though; Taim was certainly not what he'd call _bowing and scraping_… even if he was muttering. "My Lord Dragon," Taim continued, "I would simply prefer it if there were ten of them rather than five. Or better yet, twenty." There was a faint note of exasperation in his voice when he added, "I should hope I could deal with that many on my own."

Al'Thor, however, wasn't swayed. "Nevertheless, we're doing this my way," he said curtly.

Taim looked as though he wanted to argue, as though he might argue… but then he just inclined his head slightly and that peculiar not-quite-smile twitched his lips. "As you say," he repeated wryly.

Then al'Thor stood up again, Asmodean following the example. "I may not have the chance to check in on your progress here as often as I would like," al'Thor said. "I did mean it when I said I am going to have to leave this as your responsibility. Too many things…" He cut off with a shake of his head. "No matter. I trust you'll send word immediately if anything happens here that I should be aware of."

"Absolutely," Taim replied smoothly.

There was a commotion outside — the wagon from Caemlyn carrying the latest recruits had arrived. Only two today by the look of it. Taim took in the sight and arched a sceptical eyebrow — which al'Thor either ignored or didn't see — but wisely said nothing. Asmodean suppressed a smirk; as little as he cared about Taim's ego, there was no point in deliberately antagonising the man. Besides, he suspected that Taim did have a point, regarding recruiting… _if_ one wanted to see the number of the students grow faster. Asmodean was far from convinced it was a good idea by any stretch of imagination.

Al'Thor opened a gateway back to Caemlyn where he stood — no need to confuse things outside further by having the Dragon Reborn casually stroll out of the farmhouse. "Go to your students, Taim," he said. "And Light send I don't need them before they're ready…" The last part, Asmodean suspected, was not meant to be heard. He followed al'Thor through the gateway. The last thing he saw before it winked shut behind him was Taim's grimace as he downed the last of his wine before squaring his shoulders and striding out to meet the new recruits.


End file.
